Upernavik Journal February 3rd 2011

February 3rd 2011

Artist House.

I was reading at around 6 this morning when suddenly all was plunged into complete darkness. Edging my way from the bedroom to bathroom from where I can see the village wasn’t an easy task as the staircase runs up the middle of the bedroom. It was like walking on the deep snow outside, one foot at a time. Looking out of the tiny bathroom window I can usually see pinpricks of light everywhere. Many islanders illuminate their homes through the night and the snowy roadway is well lit both by streetlights and red bulbs also on the poles. This morning nothing at all, just complete and utter dark. Standing there in silent blindness transported me from this century right back to when the only houses here were the few buildings at this end of the island plus turf houses and shacks.

Yesterday Beathe and I were looking at the museums collection of very old photographs and this morning for a short while in the total darkness while the wind howled and the sea boomed I saw how incredible survival was in this climate. Yesterday I was moaning about losing artistic creativity I feel  ashamed. The women of this island were so resilient. Some of the photographs showed Inuit women caring for the sick and injured. They had to learn to do everything just to live another day and sometimes in this darkness what they did wasn’t good enough, maybe due to lack of education, supplies or medical knowledge and they also had to live with that. For a short time period time was suspended in the darkness in that small house on the edge of no where.  I was glad the light failed for long enough for me to experience a fragile link with Upernavik's history.

Original turf house.